All Through the Night
by urstory
Summary: "...to the apartment that Elijah compelled someone to rent us with the bedroom that looks into his study..." Haylijah one-shot!


**So this is my first Originals story! Please, please review! All feedback is welcome!**

 **Disclaimer: you know how it goes ….**

 **Hayley** had always been a night owl. For years she had wandered the wilderness alone with the moonlight looking down on her; did her best to survive with the moonlight as her only guide; wondered desperately what life had in store for her with the moonlight as her only hope.

Now, she had a new Hope, an infinitely better Hope, the greatest Hope … and tonight – as it had been every night over the past few months – the light that held her unwavering attention was not the New Orleans moon, but the gentle glow of an antique lamp through a window across the way.

 _He's still awake, then,_ Hayley thinks, and she curls her fingers around the corner of her pillow, fisting it securely in her hand. She has a desperate desire to move, but Jackson's arm is flung over her waist, holding onto her possessively – as if he knows even in his sleep – and she suddenly feels as though she's suffocating …

So instead she breathes deeply through her nose, scrunches up her eyes and focuses on him …

She can hear his footsteps move across his study… his steady breathing … the gentle clinking of the liquor glasses … and is that a quill he's writing with? The corners of her mouth begin to pull up involuntarily and her body finally starts to relax. Her eyes flutter open again, focusing on the movements of his shadow dancing across the book-filled walls.

 _He's going to pass by the window again,_ Hayley thinks … after so many months, she's gotten good at anticipating when she'll get those precious nighttime glimpses …

 **Elijah** had always had a penchant for the finer things in life – good liquor … good opera … good suits …

But he had never desired to drink and he had never needed a drink – alcohol was simply an activity, a family activity usually. This lack of desire or need when it came to alcohol is what made him such a good drinker – always in control.

Now, as Elijah poured himself yet another bourbon, he had to admit what he had known for a few months now – he needed this drink. He downed it and paused, listening….

 _She's still awake,_ Elijah thinks, and he pours himself another glass. This was his new ritual … to stay up with her each night.

 _She deserves to have someone who will stay up with her,_ he thinks again, and if she were still his, he would do just that – lie awake with her in bed, hold her close, and talk or remain silent for however long she needed or wanted …

But for now all he can do is stay up with her across the way, listening to her heartbeat … her uneven breathing … the slight rustling of the sheets as she tries to keep herself from tossing and turning …

He grips his drink and prepares to move back towards his desk – that means he'll get to pass the window. These are the moments he cherishes and he can feel his heartbeat quicken as he approaches … when he glances discretely out of the corner of his eye, seeing her is like waking up again. He tries not to linger – especially on the arm _he_ has draped around her waist, and has to grip the edge of the desk to maintain his self-control when he reaches it.

 **Hayley** tries to appear asleep, but she knows she's not fooling him. Her body tenses in anticipation as his pristine figure appears briefly on the other side of the open window. She sneeks a peek from underneath her half-closed eyelids and grips her pillow even harder so as not to squirm and wake up Jackson.

Her elation begins to plummet as she again feels the dead weight of his arm over her and she suddenly feels trapped again.

 _So close, and so far away,_ she thinks and momentarily hates herself for using such a cliché. Out of all the apartments it had to be this one … the one with the perfect and devastating view.

 _Did he choose this one on purpose?_ She finds herself wondering again … surely not, she shakes her head slightly.

 _Stop being a silly, love-sick fool,_ she tells herself.

 **Elijah** loosens his grip slightly and begins focusing on his breathing, matching it with hers. He can feel the calm settling around him again and takes another deep breath through his nose, letting her scent waft towards him from across the way through the open windows. He lets it fill him and shifts instinctively closer to the window.

His calm begins to fade, being replaced with that all too familiar heavy deadness in his chest – he's not sure his heart is even beating anymore…it wouldn't surprise him.

 _So close … yet so far away,_ he thinks and he doesn't care that it's a cliché. After a thousand years, he knows that clichés exist for a reason.

 _Why did I choose that apartment?_ He finds himself wondering again … He'd be lying if he said it wasn't on purpose. It was. He needs her close, even if just in this way.

He grips his glass a bit more securely and takes another deep breathe … his courage and anguish rising … tomorrow he will return to his duties and she to hers, and it will be as though this never happened …

"I love you," he murmurs.

And when he hears the slight, achingly familiar hitch in her breathe, he knows she heard.


End file.
